


The Chaos Theory

by lovewashisname



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Agender Character, Angst, Blind Character, Bokuaka - Freeform, Car Accidents, Deaf Character, Homophobia, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, KageHina - Freeform, Karasuno, M/M, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, aoba johsai, daisuga - Freeform, iwaoi - Freeform, kurotsukki - Freeform, platonic kuroken, tsukkiyama - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:28:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovewashisname/pseuds/lovewashisname
Summary: Daichi believes in the Chaos Theory. He believes it, because he lost his whole world to it. He watched people lose the light in their eyes, and he watched hands go limp in his own.And now, standing in the rain in front of his best friend's grave, he wishes that he could've done something – anything – to save his team.The ultimate Haikyuu angst fic.





	1. Her Last Words : Courtney Parker

**Author's Note:**

> WaRnInG~  
> Please, please, please, do not read if you are easily triggered! There will be death, accidents, self harm and more! Please be careful!
> 
> On another note, I basically combined all the Haikyuu angst ideas I found on Google images.

The Chaos Theory states that the flap of a butterfly's wings on one side of the world can trigger a hurricane on the other side of the world. The smallest of actions can lead to the biggest of changes.

If you wanted to change your future, you'd have to change something in your past. It could be the most minor of changes, the most unnoticeable difference.

But even if you could find that one moment, that one word, one breath, one second, that you had to change, the after effects would be so drastic that things would change completely, resulting in a number of unwanted changes.

Daichi believes in the Chaos Theory. He believes it, because he lost his whole world to it. He watched people lose the light in their eyes, and he watched hands go limp in his own.

And now, standing in the rain in front of his best friend's grave, he wishes that he could've done something – anything – to save his team.

*

It starts with Yamaguchi. Something is wrong with him, Ukai notes. He is limping. There is a bruise on his leg. Actually, scratch that. There are several bruises on his legs. His right wrist looks swollen. He doesn't seem to have slept in weeks and for some reason he's wearing a long-sleeved shirt underneath his volleyball jersey. 

Tsukki notices that there is a dark red drop of something on the edge of his sleeve. It looks much too similar to blood. He doesn't say anything. He's too scared that if he asks, it'll be blood, and then he won't be able to stop worrying. 

Even in the club room, Tsukki doesn't ask. He sees bruises all over Yamaguchi's legs, and blisters on the soles of his feet (which must have been why he was limping, he considers). They're not blisters from shoes, he notices. They're burn marks. 

Yamaguchi doesn't take off the gray t-shirt he was wearing, instead just pulls a pale pink sweater over it. It's too hot for that. Much too hot to be wearing long sleeve shirts under an already stifling sweater. "Why are you staring, Tsukki?" Yamaguchi asks with a playful smile. Tsukki frowns and turns away from the skinny, freckled boy. 

"Shut up, Yamaguchi," he mutters, earning a soft-spoken apology. He glances at him when he's not looking, and on a sharp, freckled collar bone, he sees a few gashes. Cuts that are thick and deep, but slowly healing into nothing but scars. "What are those?"

Yamaguchi tilts his head to the side and glances down at his arms, only to see that they are covered. He frowns a little, looking vaguely confused. "What are what?" he asks, looking at Tsukki. The taller male hooks two fingers beneath the collar of Yamaguchi's sweater and shirt. 

"Tsukki, get off, what are you-" 

His face shows only panic and his eyes are wide, staring at Tsukki's hand like it might break his neck. Yamaguchi imagines it; Daichi, Asahi and Suga walking in, only to find a limp, paralysed body covered in cuts, laying in the arms of what should've been his best friend. It doesn't seem all that bad. 

But the hand doesn't break his neck, only tugs down at the sweater to let angry, golden eyes stare at his collarbone. Yamaguchi is sure that his heart stops in his chest. Tsukki is staring and he won't stop staring, and he is sure that this is a mistake. That there can't be cuts on his best friend's collar, that it's just make-up, just something, as long as it's not cuts. 

"Are you crazy?" he asks suddenly, and his voice is louder and much, much colder than he intended it to be. He watches a grimace tug at Yamaguchi's features, his eyes widening as he grabs and pushes weakly at Tsukki's hand. He doesn't know why he spoke like that. He doesn't understand why he's so angry, when he should be supportive and caring. 

"What have you done to yourself? Have you lost your mind?" he shouts. The words keep coming, and he watches the bullets he speaks make wounds far deeper in Yamaguchi than cuts ever could. But his hands are shaking and it feels like his world is falling apart, and he doesn't know how to stop it. 

"Let go of me, Tsukki!" Yamaguchi shouts desperately. But his words aren't working, because Tsukki isn't letting go, won't let go. He's hidden so much for so long, it doesn't make sense for people to find out now. It wouldn't make sense for people to find out ever, he thinks. This is his secret. 

Tsukki growls and pulls Yamaguchi up by the collar of his sweater. "Do you want to die?" he asks, his voice harsh and cold. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" As soon as he's asked it, he wishes he hadn't. The question is ugly, and all it did was make Yamaguchi laugh bitterly. 

"It's not funny! It's not funny, Tadashi!" he screams, but his words seem to have no effect on the grim smile that plays on Yamaguchi's lips. "Do you have any idea what I'd do without you? What would I do if you died?" 

And then Yamaguchi grabs his wrist, and his fingers are so strong, they dig into Tsukki's skin. He knows he will have bruises later. He doesn't know that he will wish for those bruises to stay imprinted on him forever. Yamaguchi pushes his hand away, and he wonders if Tsukki knows that it's the last time they'll touch. 

"That's bullshit!" he shouts, tears welling in his eyes. No, he thinks. His anger cannot turn to tears now. He cannot lose his anger and pain to the same sadness and weakness that keeps him from sleep. 

"You know what you'd do without me? You'd keep on making stupid jokes about Hinata's height, you'd keep being selfish and sarcastic, because that's what you do!" he's screaming now, and there are tears on his cheeks, but his voice doesn't shake or waver in the slightest. "You never try to make me smile, even though I always try for you! You ignore me and push me aside like I'm worth nothing!"

Tsukki's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "That's not true," he protests. "Tadashi, you know that's not-"

"I don't know shit! If I were dead you'd keep making gooey eyes over Kuroo and you'd be just fine!" he screams, and it sounds like it hurts to say. Maybe if he hadn't been screaming so loud, they would've noticed Yachi outside the door. "Because the way you treat me, I might as well already be dead!"

Tsukki opens his mouth to shout again, but the door is open suddenly, and Daichi is telling them to back off, to calm down. Yamaguchi glares at Tsukki, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Daichi, check his wrists," is all Tsukki mutters. 

Everything falls apart. Yamaguchi feels like he can't breathe. Because Tsukki doesn't care about what he's just said. He doesn't care if it's real or not. He doesn't care that maybe he's the reason why Yamaguchi is hurting so bad. All he cares about is proving that he's right, proving that Yamaguchi is wrong. 

"I hope you guys make it to nationals," Yamaguchi mutters before Daichi can grab his wrist. He lets out a choked sob, and it's the first sign of weakness he shows. Daichi is yelling and so is Tsukki, but Yamaguchi is pushing past Yachi and Suga and he can't hear them, won't hear them. 

His heart is aching and that's all he can feel. And god, does it hurt. It hurts more than the dull pain in his legs as he runs home, the burning in his lungs from not having enough air. It hurts more than the aching in his hand when he slams the door too hard, and it hurts more than realising that once again, his parents aren't home. 

It hurts more than the cuts he pushes into his wrist over and over again with shaking hands. It hurts more than the horrible migraine that pounds through his skull as he lets blood drip down his wrists, down his thighs, down his stomach. 

Next to him, his phone won't stop ringing. There are too many missed calls to count, and when it isn't Tsukki's name on the screen, it's Daichi's, Suga's, Akiteru's, Hinata's. They won't stop calling. He drops his razor blade to the floor and lies down in the puddle of blood staining his bathroom floor. 

He can hardly see, hardly breathe, hardly think straight, but his hand grips the phone beside him. No matter how slippery, from blood and tears, he holds on. He answers the call. "Where are you? Tadashi where are you-"

"Hey, Tsukki," he says softly. His voice is quiet, it sounds like he's sighing out words instead of speaking them. Tsukki keeps asking, keeps shouting at him, and he sound desperate, Yamaguchi realises. He sounds like he's lost something that's awfully precious to him. 

"I'm sorry about earlier," he says to Tsukki, his voice shaking. There are black splotches in his vision, and it feels just like falling asleep. And just like when he falls asleep, he wants to shut his eyes and get it over with. "I was so rude to you, Tsukki."

"No you weren't, no you weren't," Tsukki rambles, his voice shaking and pleading. He's begging Yamaguchi to call an ambulance, he's begging him to say where he is. He's begging him to stay alive. "Please, Tadashi, stop it, please!"

Yamaguchi's eyes fill with tears that slip down his face sideways. What has he done? He shakes his head, letting out soft sobs into the reciever. Tsukki lets out a pained sound, like someone's pushed a knife into his gut. "I'm sorry, Tsukki," he says between tears and gasps for breath. 

"Don't die, Tadashi, please," Tsukki pleads. He slams his hand against hand against the door of an empty classroom. But his words are useless, pointless, meaningless. He knows now, he should've said these things when Yamaguchi was alive, standing in front of him. He should have told him that he was worth everything and anything, should have made him happy. 

"Tsukki, I just want to," he struggles to talk. His breathing is laboured and he can hardly sob, let alone speak. Even though Suga is beside Tsukki, calling an ambulance, Tsukki knows he's going to die. He can hear it in Yamaguchi's voice, tell from the way he speaks like he can hardly breathe. His whole world comes crashing down. 

"Just... To hear you.. Tell me you love me, Kei," Yamaguchi whispers, and it's the shakiest, saddest and most urgent, pleading phrase Tsukki has ever heard. He shuts his eyes and listens to Yamaguchi's heavy, shaking breaths. 

And he finds that it's the hardest thing he's ever had to say. Not because it's false, not because he doesn't love Yamaguchi. But because it means goodbye. And he doesn't want to say goodbye, he wants to say 'see you later', he wants to hold Yamaguchi and stop all this pain. 

"I love you, Tadashi."

Yamaguchi laughs, and Tsukki knows that it's the worst, most remorseful sound he'll ever hear, no matter how long he lives. "I'm sorry... Kei.."

Tsukki sobs and slams his hand against the door again. Suga looks to him with wide, tear-filled eyes. He doesn't understand. He's called an ambulance, everything will be okay. But it won't. Because Tsukki can hear the short, desperate sobs and breaths. He can hear them slow, and all of a sudden he can't. He can't hear them. 

There is no sound coming from Yamaguchi's end of the call. 

"Tadashi! Tadashi, get up!" he screams, and it feels like his vocal cords are raw. This isn't real. He can't have just listened to his best friend's death. His heart is in his mouth, and it feels like if he speaks, it'll fall to the floor and shatter in front of him. "I love you, Tadashi! I love you, please get up! I love you!"

Suga's eyes widen, and he understands. But he wishes he didn't. He watches his teammate, his friend, break down and scream into his phone, begging someone to wake up, telling them over and over again that they're loved. But that person can't hear him, and Suga wishes he didn't know that. 

The ambulance arrives too late. Yamaguchi has been dead for at least five minutes by the time they get there. His eyes are blank, and his phone lies next to him. On the other end, someone is still screaming how much they love him.


	2. City Lights : Motionless In White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just gets worse.  
> (the fic, not life. life gets better.)

Tsukki stands in the entrance hall of a mortuary. The smell inside the mortuary is thick and heavy, and he's sure this is what death smells like. As though knowing that Yamaguchi's body was somewhere in there wasn't enough, the air is heavy and sticks to his nostrils and throat. He can hardly breathe. 

Akiteru looks guilty. His expression is creased with worry and sorrow. He doesn't even know about Tsukki's argument with Yamaguchi before he died. The people who do know are Daichi, Suga, Yachi, who look too pale to be real. 

Yachi is wailing, hugging Kiyoko as she cries. She looks like someone has killed her dog, the way she bawls, snot and tears staining Kiyoko's shirt. Suga is standing straight, a hand over his mouth as he looks at the ground. He's crying silent tears, but his big, doe eyes are deep with pain and guilt. If only he'd called the ambulance earlier. 

Daichi is silent. He's not crying, but there is something in the way he pushes out long sighs every few minutes that says more about how he feels than tears would. But these are reactions Tsukki can deal with. He doesn't mind watching them cry, it isn't suffocating. 

But what is suffocating is Yamaguchi's little sister, Miko, who is whimpering and sobbing against her mother's chest, wondering how her older brother died. What is suffocating is Yamaguchi's mother, holding her daughter close and crying, asking why her little boy is gone. What is suffocating is Yamaguchi's father, who keeps an arm around his wife, crying quietly. 

Tsukki watches them, and their eyes are full of pain, their tears are infinite, just like their sorrow. And it is agonising, but it doesn't hurt more than hearing Yamaguchi's last breath. 

"What did I do wrong?" his mother asks between sobs. "What did I do, Tadashi?" Tsukki wants to tell her that it wasn't her fault, that it was his. That he should've appreciated his friend, should've loved him like he said he did, should've made him believe that he was worth more than a blade and a teenage suicide story. 

But he can't, because he can hardly bring himself to believe this. Because if he apologises, it'll be real. And it can't be real. The door opens and the rest of the team files into the entrance of the mortuary. They look dazed, like they've just woken up from a particularly scary dream. 

Tsukki understands the feeling. But it's not a dream. It's all much too real. He pushes past Asahi just as he starts to apologise for his loss. He doesn't want an apology. Apologies won't bring Yamaguchi back. They won't bring back those constellations of freckles, those bright apologies and sweet smiles. 

He's hardly out the door when he dials Kuroo's number. He hopes that Kuroo will answer. He doesn't know what he'll do if he doesn't. But he does, and all the breath seems to leave Tsukki's lungs for a moment, and he feels – not for the first time today – like he's been pushed underwater. 

"Tsukki, what's up?" Kuroo asks. His voice isn't lazy and loud, like it usually is. He sounds out of breath, and worried. Tsukki's heart drops. He opens his mouth to speak, but finds that he can't form the words to tell Kuroo that Yamaguchi is dead. "Tsukki, I'm busy. If there's something you want to talk about tell me now."

It's then that Kuroo hears the first sob. It's shaky and vulnerable, and nothing like Tsukki at all. He feels like he might cry too. There's no way he can deal with Kenma's disappearance and Tsukki's tears in one day. 

"Kuroo, Yamaguchi, he," Tsukki stutters on the words, and he drops to the floor, his back against the brick wall of the mortuary. Everything hurts. His heart aches, his head pounds with a migraine, his stomach turns and his throat is tight with air he can't swallow. "He killed himself."

Kuroo's eyes widen. He stops, remembering the freckled boy that stuck to Tsukki's side like a shadow, his quiet apologies and gentle smiles. He runs a hand through his messy bedhead and lets out a long sigh. His day seems to be falling apart, getting worse every minute. 

"I'm so sorry, babe," he says, trying to sound gentle and reassuring. But all it does is remind Tsukki of Yamaguchi's voice and how it shook as he apologised for the last time. But it isn't Kuroo's fault, so he says nothing, opting to let himself melt into a puddle of tears and hurt on the cold concrete ground. 

Kuroo looks around him, raising his eyebrows and huffing softly. He tries to choose which is more important; best friend or boyfriend, when his phone begins to ring against his ear. He pulls it away, and his heart leaps at the sight of the caller ID. 

Suddenly, the decision is all too easy. "We'll talk later, Kenma's calling," he says, his words rushing together like a train crash. Tsukki hardly understands him, and before he knows it, he's listening to the static of an empty line. A choked sob escapes him. 

Kuroo answers Kenma's call, his heart thumping somewhere that's much too close to his throat. The air he breathes is heavy and warm. It smells of rain, and Kuroo feels like he's trapped in a greenhouse. "Kenma," he says, his voice sudden and loud. "Where are you?"

"I'm at an internet café," Kenma's soft-spoken reply comes. "Calm down." The small, agender blond sits curled up in an office chair, scrolling through a games site on one of the café's computers. They sound vaguely bothered by Kuroo's voice, although they are grateful for his concern. 

Their hands are a little shaky, and there is a backpack, duffel bag and plastic bag at their feet, filled with clothes, games and all of his school stuff. The things are unorganised, packed in one on top of the other. Kenma had been in a rush, and organisation had not been prioritised. 

"Why aren't you at home? What happened?" Kuroo's questions feel endless, and they spill from his lips continuously, hardly giving Kenma the time to think. Their head aches from where they've been hit and their lip is bust and bleeding. 

"Kuroo," they say, their voice barely above a whisper. They close the games site and open a tab to look for youth hostels. Their hands are firm and their voice is steady, but their heart is hammering in their ribcage anxiously. "I'm not going back home."

Kuroo feels panic lodge itself in his chest, somewhere between his lungs. It makes it hard to breathe. "What... What do you mean you're not going back?" he asks. The question is firm and laced with confusion. He doesn't understand, and everything feels so wrong that he's not sure he wants to. 

Kenma shakes their head, shutting their eyes for a moment. Their slender fingers begin to type out an email to the closest hostel he finds. Even the email seems quiet and meek. "My dad got angry at me," they mumble. Their voice sounds strained, and a shaky sigh pushes itself between the words. "He doesn't want me to be agender."

Kuroo whines, and it sounds desperate. He's not sure he wants to have to convince Kenma they they should go back home. He's not sure that Kenma will be safe if they go back home. "Okay," he says, defeated. He gives up, too anxious and worried to persuade his friend. "Call me when you get to wherever you're going."

Kenma nods, even though Kuroo can't see it. They utter a quiet goodbye and send the email to the hostel. They're not sure that there'll be enough space for them to sleep there tonight. Tears well in their eyes and for the first time since that morning, they cry. 

The sobs are quiet, barely audible and choked back. Nobody in the cafe asks if they are okay, or if they want help. They cry until their hour is up, and then trudge out of the internet café. The bruises on their eye and the back of their head pound with their heartbeat, and their bust lip begins to bleed again. 

But most of all, Kenma's heart aches, knowing he wasn't enough for his family.


	3. Female Robbery : The Neighbourhood

The silence at their table is thick. It hangs over their shoulders like fog, and even so, it is all too fragile. Every time Tsukki lets out a quiet sob, every time Kenma winces, the attention at the table shifts. Even the workers at the coffee shop watch the five boys curiously, not understanding the darkness in their eyes and bitterness in their tears. 

Tsukki keeps his head ducked down, tears running down his cheeks. He shouldn't have gone to the funeral. Akiteru had been right: it was too much. All he can think about is Yamaguchi's thin hands, his scarred collarbones and his red-rimmed eyes. All he can think about is that the corpse lying in that coffin isn't Yamaguchi, can't be, because Yamaguchi smiles and breathes and apologises. Most of all, Yamaguchi Tadashi isn't dead to Tsukki. 

Kuroo tries to press his hand against Tsukki's back, tries to comfort him, but he's pushed away every time. His boyfriend is breaking, and he doesn't know how to put the glistening shards of his heart together again. He's scared that if he tries, he'll get hurt, that the broken pieces of Tsukki's heart will dig into his skin and make him ache and cry. 

Kenma holds a mug of coffee to their lips. Their hands are shaking, their eyes wide and scared. They'd never been to a funeral before Yamaguchi's. They hadn't liked it. But now, sitting in this quiet coffeeshop, all they can feel is how their bruises throb, along with their busy lip, and the cuts on their back. 

Bokuto's shoulders slump. There are dark, purple bags under his eyes that indicate lack of sleep, and lots of overthinking. Bokuto's mind can only think of the funeral. More specifically, Yamaguchi's coffin. It had been painted a dark blue, with glow in the dark constellations dotted all over it. Bokuto wonders why they would make something so pretty for such a horrible event. 

Akaashi is the only one of them who looks vaguely alright. There is a concerned look that tugs at his features, but even so, he forces a smile every time a worker looks his way. There is a thick kind of nausea stuck in his throat, and no matter what, he can't swallow it. 

It's Kenma who speaks first. They let out a quiet sigh, looking up at the others. "I'm quitting volleyball," they whisper. Despite how quiet their voice is, they all hear it. Their silence was all too fragile, and now that it's gone, everything is painfully real. 

"What..? Why?" Bokuto asks carefully. Kuroo is staring, his eyes wide, his fists clenched on the table. He knows Kenma doesn't like volleyball an awful lot. They never have. But they've always been on the team, and Kuroo has gotten used to their meek presence. 

Kenma shakes their head and pressed their hands against their thighs. They shut their eyes, and everything rushes back to their memory. The hand that gripped their hair and slammed against his eye. Their mother, screaming something that sounded vaguely like a cry for help. Their father, and the half empty bottle that he'd smashed against their back. 

They open their eyes, and the small cuts littered across their back throb. "I have more important things to worry about," they murmur, looking up at Kuroo. There is a pleading look in their eyes that begs him not to be angry, not to ask why. But they aren't sure Kuroo can see it, so they look away before he can ask any questions. "I need to focus on my grades."

Tsukki feels Kuroo's hand against his back, and the urge to push him away surfaces and makes his chest feel tight. But he knows that Kuroo's hand isn't there to comfort him. This time, it's there for Kuroo to comfort himself. So Tsukki looks away from the boys around the table and lets himself cry silently. 

He wonders what Yamaguchi felt like, lying on his bathroom floor, alone and soaked in blood. His own blood. Tragedy isn't glamorous, and Tsukki knows that. But he wonders if that's what Yamaguchi saw: a glamorously tragic way to die. A way to make people remember him. Or did he just feel the same loneliness that haunted him when he was alive?

Tsukki lets out a low, pained wail. There were so many things he could've done, should've done. But he hadn't. "Tsukki, are you okay?" Bokuto asks. He means well. Even Tsukki knows that. But he can't stop himself, and before he realises what he's done, the words have spilt all over the space between them. 

"Shut up, bipolar piece of shit," he mutters. Bokuto's eyes widen for a moment, and then he flinches. It's not the first time somebody has called him that, and he guesses that it won't be the last time. But his stomach twists and he feels like he might cry. 

Kuroo's hand moves away from Tsukki's back and he looks at him in disbelief. "Tsukki, what the fuck?" he mumbles. There is no sarcasm in Tsukki's bitter smile, no trace of apology in his dark eyes. Only guilt and sorrow, that are thick in his voice as he speaks again. 

"Sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Once he's said it, he gets up and leaves. The silence is much heavier than before, and it feels suffocating. Kenma presses a fingertip to his bruise, Bokuto forces a smile to Akaashi, who asks if he's okay. 

Kuroo does nothing. He isn't sure if that apology was meant for them or for Yamaguchi.


	4. Cancer : My Chemical Romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long,, and it was so painful

When he picks up his phone, there is voicemail again. His hands are shaking, and he can hardly bring himself to stand with the pain in his abdomen, but he sits up, clutches his stomach and plays the message. 

"Hey, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa's happy voice rings into his ear. He winces at the loudness of the sound, but he doesn't bother to turn down the volume. It'd just be another thing to do that required effort on his behalf. And he isn't sure how much effort he can put into things with what little strength be has. 

"I got my new hearing aids! The doctor says my hearing is worse, but if I stop using headphones it might stop worsening!" Oikawa's recorded message explains to him. "Mattsun says you're still sick... Are you sure it's just the flu, Iwa-chan? Maybe you should see a doctor.."

Iwaizumi shuts his eyes. He's not sure if he does this in an attempt to block out the mind-numbing pain that brings tears to his eyes, or if he does it because he misses Oikawa's voice. He considers that it might be both of those things. 

"Anyway, I have to go," Oikawa's voice seems to wrap itself around his heart and squeeze tightly, causing it to shatter in his chest. "But I'll visit you later today, so you won't have to wait too long to see me again! Buh-bye!"

There is an automated beep that lasts about five seconds before the message begins to replay. Iwaizumi lets out a low groan and drops his phone on the floor. For a moment, he's worried that he'll smash the screen, and that he's being careless. But the thought is dismissed by a pang of pain in his stomach again. 

The pain is worse than anything Iwaizumi could ever have imagined. It feels like there is a knife lodged between his ribs, shoving into his lungs over and over, making it hard to breathe and hard to see. It feels like there is a rope tied around his abdomen, tightening and tightening, digging into his flesh until it tears and exposes his organs, his throbbing stomach. 

He gags, and it's a horrible, choked sound. He can barely grab the plastic bucket by his bed before he is heaving bile and acid up from his stomach. He hasn't eaten anything today, except for his painkillers. But his stomach refuses to keep its contents down all the same, and the sound of retching and vomit hitting the bottom of the bucket fills his room. 

When he's done, a soft sob escapes his lips. He presses the heel of his hand to his eye, ignoring the stray tear that slides down his cheek. His skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and his mouth tastes of vomit. Everything is painful. On his bedside is a doctor's letter. It confirms everything that Iwaizumi hasn't told Oikawa. It confirms everything that he has kept hidden from his best friend. 

A few short phrases are highlighted in orange. There is no particular reason as to why he highlighted them. Maybe it was so that he would believe those unbelievable words. 'Stomach cancer'. 'Terminal'. 'Nothing we can do'. 

Iwaizumi forces himself to stand up, forces himself to walk to the bathroom, no matter how much it hurts. He forces himself to wash out the bucket, and brush his teeth. Everything aches, and now that there aren't any painkillers in his stomach, the pain is overwhelming. He can hardly stand when there's a knock at the door. 

"Iwa-chan!" a familiar voice calls. Iwaizumi clutches his abdomen. He feels his world fall apart around him, and despite how hard he tries, he can't seem to do anything that will fix things. "Iwa-chan, I'm cold! Come open the door!"

Iwaizumi hardly registers his words. All he can think of is how he doesn't want Oikawa to know that he's dying. That he's going to die. He doesn't want to see Oikawa's face when he realises that it's not just the flu, that Iwaizumi really is sick. Sick enough that it's too late for medication. 

"It's open," he manages, dragging the words up from his throat. It's not loud enough, Iwaizumi knows that. Oikawa won't hear him, not when his voice is so, so quiet. But the door opens anyway, and Iwaizumi retches into the toilet. This time, there are no painkillers. Only ugly-coloured bile that is tainted with blood. 

"Iwa-chan?" Oikawa calls, his voice closer than before. Iwaizumi slams the toilet seat down and groans softly against his arm, listening to the gentle footsteps that come up the stairs. Nausea overcomes him, and he wishes that he'd told his mum to stay home with him. 

"Are you okay, Iwa-" his voice stops abruptly at the sight. Iwaizumi leaning against the toilet, wearing one of Oikawa's old sweaters and boxers, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. The whole room stinks of vomit, and blood, and Oikawa can't help but gag a little at the smell. 

Worry pangs in his chest, much too close to his heart, which seems to jump up into his mouth. Iwaizumi, his Iwa-chan, looks so terribly sick, and tears well up in his eyes. He hasn't got the flu, he's got something worse. He doesn't want to know how much worse. 

"Hajime, what's wrong..?" he whispers, crouching beside his boyfriend. His voice is much too shaky to offer any comfort, but he repeats soft, sweet words over and over in Iwaizumi's ear, carefully wrapping his arms around his waist. Iwaizumi shuts his eyes, an lets Oikawa pull him close. 

His heart shatters as he feels Oikawa's heartbeat against his cheek. So many symptoms, so many obvious signs that he should have noticed, should have done something about. But he hadn't. He was going to die. And worst of all, he wanted to. He wanted to die and just get this all over with. 

"Hajime, please," Oikawa begs, his voice shaking. Panic is gripping him tightly by the neck, and it feels horrible. He can't get rid of the suffocating feeling, no matter how hard he tries. "Just tell me what's wrong... Babe, please." Iwaizumi shakes his head and holds onto Oikawa like he's a lifeline. 

Everything seems to fall apart as the two of them hold eachother together. Oikawa doesn't understand why his boyfriend is so sick, doesn't understand what's going on. He wants to understand, but he's also scared to understand, because he doesn't want to find out that something's horribly wrong. 

Iwaizumi understands, knows, that this is irreparable. That no matter how many times he says it, Oikawa won't believe that it's just the flu. He refuses to tell him, refuses to acknowledge that he's dying, that he will die. Because once he acknowledges that, he will have to acknowledge all the consequences that come with death. 

Like never falling asleep by Oikawa's side, and never getting to nationals, and never again hearing Oikawa's voice, seeing his smile, never spiking his tosses, never holding him again, and never ever feeling his heartbeat, the way he can now, against his cheek. Never means forever, and Iwaizumi isn't ready for that. 

"Just stay," Iwaizumi whispers. His voice is hoarse and shaky, but to Oikawa it's still the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. "Please, just stay with me."

Oikawa nods and runs his fingers through Iwaizumi's hair. He holds him close, because if he lets go, Iwaizumi might dissolve in his arms. Because if he lets go, they might just become a puddle of tears and fear and hurt on the bathroom floor, ready to be mopped up like all other messes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, in case you didn't understand,, Iwa-chan has terminal stomach cancer


	5. Jasey Rae : All Time Low

Everyone can hear it. The music rings past his headphones and throughout the gym, the messy guitar and sad vocals embedding itself into the team's skulls. Kageyama is staring blankly at them – or maybe not staring, because he can't see a thing. His sunken blue eyes are dull. 

"Kageyama," Ukai says, his voice tired and heavy. The team hasn't gotten over Yamaguchi's funeral, and they haven't gotten over Kageyama's accident either. Ukai wonders why they're still here after school, when their hearts are all so heavy and dreary. "Can you turn your music down?"

It's not that Kageyama doesn't hear this. It's that he doesn't want to hear it. That if he's going to lose one sense, why not lose all the others, too? That if he can't see, what's the point of hearing? Maybe that's why his music is so loud in the first place. He considers Ukai's request for a fair amount of time, and the team watches and listens to see if he will turn it down. 

He reaches up and finds the wire that connects to his headphones with a shaky hand. The volume goes up. Twice. Hinata's shoulders slump, and Ukai sighs, but they get back to practice. Kageyama listens to their half-hearted playing, listens to the balls as they hit the ground. 

There are no cheers, though, when someone does something right. Or maybe no one is doing anything right. Kageyama clenches his fists, and wishes that he'd become deaf too. To him, being blind and still listening to the world around him feels suffocating. 

Suga glances at Kageyama, a small frown tugging at his lips. Even if Kageyama can't see, his expression is laced with a kind of hopelessness and anger that seems to reverberate from his skin. Suga wonders why, exactly, Kageyama is listening to melancholy love songs that are a year or two too old, when his expression indicates something that's awfully angry. 

He glances at Hinata, watches the small spiker jump and settle back down on the ground. Suga wonders if that's the reason for the love songs. Because maybe, to Kageyama, being blind means never seeing Hinata again. And maybe, for Kageyama, that is the worst thing. 

Kageyama grits his teeth, the grinding sound filling his skull above the music he's listening to. He tries to imagine what practice looks like, tries desperately to imagine what Hinata looks like. But all he can see is the windscreen of a car shattering, all he can feel is glass in his eyes. And it stings. 

"Kageyama..?" Hinata murmurs, frowning as he looks at Kageyama. He's crying, and tears are leaving his blank blue eyes. Hinata doesn't think that he's noticed yet, because he looks awfully determined, and the music is as loud as ever. 

Ukai watches Hinata look at Kageyama, watches how his heart seems to drop to the ground and splatter, irreparably staining the gym floor. He glances at Kiyoko and shakes his head. Yachi seems to wilt like a sunflower at Ukai's actions, holding onto Kiyoko's hand tightly. 

"Practice is over!" Ukai calls, clapping his hands together. The team looks to him, and whilst they seem taken aback, no one is surprised. Daichi wouldn't be surprised if they don't practice for the rest of this week. "Cool down and go home. Me and Sensei will tidy up." 

The team nods and sets about collecting their things, trudging to the club room. Hinata stops in front of Kageyama and reaches forward, brushing his thumb across his pale cheek. Kageyama lets out a choked sob, and it's the first sound to come from him that isn't music that's playing too loud. 

"You're crying," Hinata states simply. His voice sounds as blank as Kageyama's eyes look. Kageyama mumbles a tired 'dumbass' and wipes his cheeks with the heels of his hand. Hinata takes his large, shaking hands into his own small ones. Their hands are calloused, but in different places. Hinata's palm is rough where Kageyama's fingertips are. 

"Let's go home," he whispers, helping his boyfriend up. Kageyama says nothing, and the tinny sound of music follows them home. 

 

Daichi and Suga wave to Asahi as he turns down a different street, heading home. Daichi lets out a long, quiet sigh, and it sounds almost like he's forcing himself to breathe. Suga's expression is laced with worry. He doesn't understand how something could fall apart so quickly. 

"I guess we'll never be a powerhouse," Daichi jokes, but the words are heavy, and seem to taunt the two of them as they walk in silence. Suga isn't sure he wants to play volleyball anymore. He isn't sure he wants to be the setter of a team that is unpredictable and fragile. Even if it's his team. 

Suga forces a small smile. He looks to Daichi, and feels his cheeks flush red, his heart seeming to skip a beat in his chest. He's not sure what love is like, but the feeling in his stomach feels all too close to what he's seen in movies. 

"Daichi?" he says softly, his voice vaguely hopeful. "I was wondering if, maybe, you want to go to the movies with me?" Daichi looks to him, his eyes wide, his cheeks bright red. He is overcome with a nauseous kind of worry that implies disaster. 

Suga looks at him, and it's like he's been shot. There is a horrible, aching pain in his chest, and he's sure that his heart has been ripped out of his chest. Daichi smiles nervously, and shakes his head. "Sorry, Suga," he says, shrugging a little. "I don't like boys."

Suga's eyes are wide, and he nods, even if it pains him to no end. He stops walking. Suddenly, his arms and legs feel like there is lead pulsing through his veins. He can't bare to look at Daichi anymore, not when he's just put a bullet in his head. 

"Suga, are you okay?" Daichi asks. The grey-haired setter tries to speak, but he stumbles over meaningless sounds that make little sense. It feels like he's swallowed a razor. He can feel it's sharp edge dig through his vein, pushing out of his skin. 

He watches the silver blade glint in the sun as it lands on the pavement, covered in blood. He chokes on the thick, metallic liquid, coughing uncontrollably as it spills from his lips and through his neck. He drops to his knees, clamping a hand over his throat, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. 

"Suga?" 

Suga looks up, and although he is pale, there is no razor on the floor. There is no blood on his hands. He wonders if he is going crazy. Daichi looks scared, his muscles tensed and a concerned look in his eyes. "I'm not gay, Suga," he repeats quietly. 

This time, Suga can't imagine the razor away, no matter how hard he tries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't understand,,, Kags was in an accident with Saeko, Daichi rejected Suga and poor crow mom is broken


	6. Súbeme La Radio : Enrique Iglesias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge gap in updates ;A;

It is nearly midnight when Suga creates the WhatsApp group Cemetery Squad. It consists of himself, Hinata, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Tsukki, Asahi, Kenma and Tanaka. He sends exactly one message, which is uncharacteristically short and to the point.

//I will be picking you up in my mum's minivan. I'm bringing flowers, but not candles. Bring your own.//

All of them wake up because of the message, and complain quietly, hiding their screens under the covers. They all answer with varying degrees of concern, although nobody asks who's grave they are going to. Suga doesn't answer the seemingly annoyed questions.

There is no real point to this, other than the horrible fact that he can't bare to go alone. His heart aches in his chest as he first drives to Hinata's house, the radio playing songs that are too happy for the kind of pain that is embedded in Suga's skin.

Hinata is waiting on his porch, wearing an oversized sweater and shorts. It takes until Suga completely stops the car to realise that the sweater does, in fact, belong to Kageyama. The small, ginger-haired spiker crawls into the second row of seats, curling up on the left side.

He doesn't question what they are doing, nor why Suga is bringing flowers. He doesn't ask why there are cuts on Suga's thighs, and he doesn't ask why there are flowers drawn all over his hands. In fact, he asks only one question, and Suga is thankful for how easy it is to answer.

"Is Kageyama coming?"

Suga nods, ruffling his hair before he closes the door to the second row of seats. He gets back into the driver's side, turning up the radio so that Hinata doesn't fall asleep. He feels like he can barely breathe, but he is also grateful to not be alone. He's painfully aware of the fact that he would swerve off road if he didn't have company.

They stop at Kageyama's house second, where Hinata texts Kageyama. He says that Kageyama won't see his phone, but will know that something is going on. He knows that Hinata wouldn't do something that caused him that much pain without a reason.

Sure enough, Kageyama turns up at his bedroom window, where Suga shouts for him to come down to the door, but to wear good clothes. It is a summer night, and definitely not cold enough for long trousers or jumpers, but t-shirts will not keep anyone warm either.

Suga helps the former setter into the second row, putting his seat belt on. It's only once he's started driving again, his eyes focused on the road almost all the time, that he glances into the mirror. Hinata is curled up against Kageyama, Kageyama's arm around him. Suga's heart aches with longing. He realises that the two of them fit together like puzzle pieces.

He stops at Asahi's house next, where Karasuno's ace waits, his hair falling around his shoulders. He is clutching three pastel-coloured candles and a box of matches. His hands are shaking so much that Suga is sure that if he lit a match, his hair would end up alight before the candles did.

Suga leans over and opens the passenger side door, and Asahi gets in with little difficulty. Now comes the part that Suga isn't ready for. He isn't sure if he can deal with this, let alone try to answer the questions that seem to endlessly spill from Asahi's mouth.

"Where are we going?"  
"Why are we going there?!"  
"Do you know what time it is?"  
"You're waking up a lot of people, Suga."  
"Suga, what's wrong with your legs?"  
"Suga... Have you been cutting yourself..?"

Suga's answers to the questions are unresponsive, and quiet. Unlike Asahi, Suga is awfully worried about Hinata and Kageyama hearing their conversation. He shakes his head and runs his fingertips over the cuts embedded into his bare thighs. "They look so pretty at night, but every time I wake up, I hate them," he whispers.

His voice is barely audible, but Asahi hears it all the same, and he wishes he hadn't. He says nothing, because he can hardly speak. He doesn't understand what's going on. He doesn't want to understand why there are cuts on Suga's thighs.

They stop at Tanaka's house next. Tanaka has a plastic bag with candles in it. He seems to be the only person who read the whole message and remembered that Suga would only bring flowers. He gets in the front, and Asahi moves over to the middle seat.

It is the quickest stop, and they are leaving before Tanaka has even closed the door. The second year looks at Suga with a vaguely worried expression. He looks at his thighs, and something in his heart twists. He is scared, that even someone as stable as Suga is starting to fall apart.

When they stop at Oikawa's house, the setter completely ignores Kageyama's greeting, and does not respond to Asahi's worried questioning either. There are dark bags under Oikawa's tired eyes, and drawings of flowers and galaxies are littered all over his arms in blue ink.

He sits in the back row, which is empty, and after a moment or two of silence, he speaks. "Sorry, I didn't have my hearing aids in," he says, pressing something to the skin behind his ear. Kageyama's breath hitches in his throat.

Oikawa doesn't need hearing aids. Oikawa is a godly setter, and the last thing he could be is hearing impaired. But he is, and Kageyama, in his lack of sight, can't help but grit his teeth with jealousy. If only he had lost his other senses. A world with sound and no sight is pointless to him, and is merely another way that his fate can tease him.

But Oikawa does need hearing aids, and he does need glasses. And in the milky moonlight that bathes their skin, Oikawa is much more fragile than Kageyama dares to imagine. Hinata wants to whisper to Kageyama, to tell him to look, and notice how cracked and flawed Oikawa is. He doesn't dare tell Kageyama to look at anything.

They stop at Tsukki's house next, and Suga opens the door again at this stop. It is a relief to everyone inside the minivan, to breathe air that isn't thick with the scent of cigarettes and gas station coffee.

Tsukki is carrying the most out of all of them. He has candles and flowers, and pieces of paper that have Yamaguchi's handwriting on them. When Hinata glances over, he is almost sure that those strips of paper have been ripped out of Yamaguchi's old schoolbooks.

"We better be going to see Tadashi," he mutters, pulling on his seatbelt. Oikawa is vaguely confused by this comment. He knows who Yamaguchi Tadashi is. What he doesn't know is that Yamaguchi is now nothing more than a corpse, and a collection of dream-like memories.

Suga barely nods, glancing at Asahi. He notices the matches that Asahi has brought. As he starts the engine and pulls away from Tsukki's house, he speaks. "I have a lighter, so we won't need matches." Asahi doesn't know if he's reassured or concerned.

Kenma's stop is the one with the least fuss, and when they get on, Hinata notices that they've been awake for a lot longer than any of them have. They curl up in the back row, and say nothing. Suga glances at them, a motherly kind of instinct forcing him to check on the people he is taking care of at 1am.

Even though Kenma is bruised and beaten up, and even though he had to stop at a youth hostel to pick them up instead of a home, Suga can't bring himself to worry. As he looks back to the road, he wonders if he is becoming self-absorbed.

Iwaizumi's stop is the worst. He is clutching a pair of crutches, doubled over in pain whilst he waits for the minivan which is starting to seem too crowded for comfort. Oikawa throws open the door before Suga has stopped the car, which scares more than one person.

He is at Iwaizumi's side instantly, pressing kisses to his face and asking if he's okay, if he really wants to do this. Iwaizumi nods, and after a moment of pain, tells Oikawa that he looks beautiful. Oikawa can't find it in him to reject the compliment.

He helps his lover into the minivan, making silly jokes and kissing his forehead all the while, holding his crutches and stroking his hair. Everyone except Kageyama glances at him, wondering how such a broken boy could be so strong. What they don't see is that he is breaking more and more every second he sees Iwaizumi's pain-filled eyes.

They've collected all the people who were in the group chat, with the addition of Kageyama, and Suga speeds up as they begin the drive to the cemetery. He is four miles over the speed limit, and the radio is playing just a little too loud for anyone to feel comfortable.

Suga can't help but feel a nauseating kind of comfort in the uneasiness of the minivan. He is grateful to have these people with him, in the kind of way that one is grateful for having a roof to sleep under.

At the speed Suga is driving, they arrive at the cemetery in fifteen minutes. It's colder than the streets full of terraced houses, but also much more comfortable for the group of miserable, grieving teenagers. Tsukki has been here so many times since Yamaguchi's death that he's lost count.

The air is thick with despair and sadness as they trudge to Yamaguchi's grave. There is already a small jar filled with daisies at his grave. Hinata has no doubt that it was Tsukki who left them there.

Suga sits down at the grave. His eyes fill with tears and he finally let's himself cry. He hugs his thighs to his chest and sobs loudly into the silent night. There are cuts on his thighs and cuts on his stomach, and in his chest his heart is aching as though there is a knife in it.

He loves Daichi. Daichi who he has known for years. Daichi, who is reliable and solid and always there for him. Daichi, who stood by him during his bad days, and who never let him cry alone. He can't bare how much he loves Daichi, because Daichi doesn't love him and never will.

His throat feels tight, like he might stop breathing if he's not careful, and he's scared that this is going to kill him. He can't help but think that he'd rather be dead than live an eternity knowing that he was never good enough for the one person he loves most.

Tanaka sets down his candles and lights them one by one. He is patient and careful. Nobody has seen him like this before, and he is vaguely worried that they'll tell Noya he's not as cool as he makes out to be.

But Saeko is in hospital and Kageyama is blind. Yamaguchi is dead and Iwaizumi is so sick he can barely stand. Suga is depressed and crying whilst he leans against a grave and Tanaka has never been so scared in his entire life. He shuts his eyes, ducks his head, and prays that his sister will wake up tomorrow.

Hinata helps Kageyama sit down at the foot of Yamaguchi's grave. Kageyama is silent, but every time Hinata moves, his grip on the spiker's hands tightens like a vice. He is so afraid that he will fall.

Kageyama can't remember the last time he wasn't afraid. All he remembers is shattering glass and screaming, and a world of darkness that has robbed him of his dreams. He can't see, and he is always afraid that he will turn one day, and he won't be able to hear Hinata. And then, his last ray of sunshine will be gone.

Hinata sits beside his boyfriend, leans against him and shuts his eyes. He laces his fingers with Kageyama's and hold onto his hand tight, lets himself melt into his lover. He knows Kageyama can't see. He knows Kageyama is scared to fall, and scared to trust him.

Hinata is also scared by the choking, strangling fear that seems to weigh heavier on the setter's shoulders everyday. He cannot lose another person he loves, cannot let go of one more familiar face. He lets out a sigh of breath that disappears into the night, ignored by everyone.

Kenma watches as everyone sits around the grave. They force themselves to sit beside them, even though their bones and skin ache as they fold into themselves. They shut their eyes, and let a dark kind of pain overwhelm them.

It's been so long since they've been somewhere safe, that it almost feels uncomfortable to be around people who won't hurt them. They let their shoulders relax, and remember all the bruises that stain their fragile skin.

The bruises from when their father shattered bottles against their back. Bruises from being thrown off their bed at the hostel. Too many bruises to count, let alone remember the causes for. They wish, from somewhere in the depths of their chest, where their heart is not broken, that at least one of their bruises is from volleyball.

Asahi sits beside Suga, and lights three candles. They are all pale, pretty pastel colours. The kind of colours Yamaguchi would have once worn, and should still be wearing. The lighter Suga promised is wrapped in so many band aids that Asahi can't help but peel one off, although it only results in another, bloodier band aid underneath. 

Asahi is scared. He can't bring himself to ask Suga why he's been hurting himself, or why he needs them at this cemetery when it's almost two in the morning. He can only sit beside the shaking, crying setter, and hope that Suga will still be breathing in an hour's time.

Oikawa helps Iwaizumi sit, and wraps his arms around him, before offering him his sweater, even though he's already shivering from the cold. He's worried for his lover, his best friend, his teammate. Because he doesn't come to school, and doesn't turn up at volleyball practice. 

When Oikawa does see him, he's doubled over in pain, or retching whilst he's bent over a toilet seat. Oikawa knows that Iwaizumi is dying, but he has no idea why. And he doesn't know what he's supposed to do to help. With shaking hands, he cups Iwaizumi's cold, flushed cheeks and kisses him.

Iwaizumi kisses back. He lets Oikawa hold him, and he kisses him back even though they're surrounded by other people. He doesn't know when Oikawa will be able to hold him again, kiss him again. He doesn't know when he will be able to breathe the same air as this wonderful, beautiful boy again.

And he absolutely cannot bare the thought of dying whilst he knows that he pushed away the one person who loves him most in this world. He knows that Oikawa understands what's happening – what's going to happen. He doesn't notice when he starts crying.

Tsukki has been at this gravestone every day since Yamaguchi died. He has spent hours here, talking, crying, smoking cigarettes he finds in his brother's room sometimes. He has left flowers everyday, candles everyday. When he leaves, he can't help but hope that one of the candles will catch fire, and that the cemetery will burn away the unbearable pain that has settled in his chest. 

He sits now, cross-legged the way he always does, and lights one of the strips of paper with Suga's sticky, blood-stained lighter. The paper burns quickly, and Yamaguchi's handwriting turns to ash quicker than Tsukki wants it to.

He lets the ash blow in he wind and scatter over the damp, frost-covered blades of grass. He hopes that Yamaguchi's words will somehow stain the ground irreparably. He leaves the flowers against the grave stone, brushing his fingertips over the words that are engraved in the dark stone.

Yamaguchi – his Yamaguchi – is lying underneath him, lifeless and irrevocably pained. Tsukki will blame himself for the rest of his life. But for now, he just lights a candle and hopes that Yamaguchi's freckles are still there, scattered over his skin like stars in the night sky. 

Somebody's phone rings. Suga doesn't know who's phone it is, not does he care. Whoever it is, they don't answer the call, and a song he presumes is sung in Spanish fills the empty spaces between them. Yet none of them has ever felt so alone.


	7. Wake Up : Eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, btw, i added a song to each chapter  
> in case you hadn't noticed ((theyre also vaguely related to each chapter))  
> tw for this chapter: death

When Oikawa gets to Iwaizumi's house, something is different. Iwaizumi is sitting in his wheelchair in his front garden, bundled up in soft blankets and with his parents either side of him. The front garden is filled with flowers and pretty things at this time of year. Oikawa can't help but think that Iwaizumi fits right in with them. 

"Hey, Iwa-chan!" he calls, waving as he sets down his bag and goes to sit with Iwaizumi and his parents. Mrs Iwaizumi stand up as soon as Oikawa is beside her, and the setter instantly notices the tears on her cheeks. She is pale and shaking, and she forces a smile for Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi's father also stands, and sets his hands on her shoulders, turning her away from Oikawa. "You sit with Hajime for a while, alright, Tooru?" he says, and despite the firmness in his voice, he seems to shake as he says it. Oikawa sits in front of Iwaizumi, nodding at his father. He can't help but hear the hushed sound of Mrs Iwaizumi as she sobs. 

"Iwa-chan, what's wrong?" he asks quietly, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He tucks his hair behind his ear and smiled at Iwaizumi, setting his hands on his knees. Iwaizumi shakes his head and points to a chair nearer to the house, so that Oikawa will be able to sit next to him. 

Oikawa fetches the chair, all kinds of worries filling his mind. It is much too hot for Iwaizumi to be wrapped in blankets. Why is he outside? He hasn't been outside since they went to see Yamaguchi's grave. And why is his mother crying? There's no reason to cry when it's such a pretty summer's day. There can't be. 

He sits himself besides Iwaizumi, reaching for his lover's hand underneath all the blankets. Iwaizumi squeezes his hand and shuts his eyes. A small smile plays on his lips as he leans against Oikawa, letting his head rest against his shoulder. 

He thinks things over, carefully plans out what he should say. It doesn't take long to come to the conclusion that he will hurt Oikawa, no matter what he says. He sighs and opens his eyes. He looks at Oikawa, takes in how beautiful his setter is. How perfectly flawed and how wonderfully broken he is. 

"My time is up," he says quietly, shutting his eyes again. "I got three months. It's already been five." Oikawa's eyes widen, and he lets out a quiet, choked breath, as though somebody has strangled him. Five months..? Iwaizumi isn't a can of food, so why does he have an expiration date?

Oikawa shakes his head, and forces out the quiet words that have been stuck in his head for weeks. "Iwa-chan... I don't understand what's going on," he whispers, his voice breaking. There are tears welling in his eyes, blurring his vision. His world feels like it's falling apart. "Y-You can't leave."

Iwaizumi feels pain curl itself around his heart, the way it has done for so long now. He doesn't want to explain to Oikawa what's wrong, doesn't want to watch him fall apart the way he watched his parents do so, the way he watched everyone else do so. Because Oikawa's pain is so, so much worse than anyone else's. 

"I'm sick, Tooru," he says, his voice low, as if he's telling a secret he doesn't want the world to know. Or maybe it's a secret he doesn't want Oikawa to know. "I have terminal cancer, in my stomach. They can't... They can't treat it." With every word Iwaizumi says, Oikawa falls apart more and more. 

He shakes his head desperately, and his grip on Iwaizumi's hand tightens until he's sure he will break his lover's fingers. "No," he manages to push out. The word is heavy, and it seems to stick to his throat and choke him. "No, you can't. You can't be sick. Iwa-chan, this... This is a stupid joke!" 

His voice is shaking, hysterical, and laced with a desperate kind of pain. Oikawa might as well be screaming at Iwaizumi. A silence hangs heavy between them, like the smoke of cheap cigarettes and the metallic smell of blood. 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. "It's stupid," he mutters, gritting his teeth. "But it's not a joke." Oikawa's breath hitches in his throat and when he blinks, thick, hot tears spill down his cheeks. He shakes his head, repeating the word 'no' over and over, until it's lost any of its meaning. 

"Y-You can't!" he shouts, and he flinches at the sound of his own voice. It is raw, and loud, and can't possibly belong to him. "How will we defeat Ushiwaka? W-What will I do? Where will I... Who'll love me if you're gone?" 

A horrible hopelessness settles over Oikawa's shoulders, heavier and heavier until he feels like his collarbones have snapped, and a deep, overwhelming kind of pain has embedded itself in his chest. Who will he love when Iwaizumi is gone?

Iwaizumi shakes his head. "Lots of people love you, Tooru," he says, and although his voice is shaking, it's the truest thing he's told Oikawa in a while. "You just have to let them in." Oikawa's tears become thicker, and he falls apart right before Iwaizumi. 

His cheeks are flushed, and covered in tears, and snot drips from his bottom lip. His eyes are bloodshot and his glasses are steamy and everything about him is a mess. Iwaizumi would be lying if he said that Oikawa wasn't the most beautiful thing in the world. 

"Don't cry, Tooru," he whispers, and pushes the blankets off of him. Oikawa crawls into his lap instantly, curling up there and hugging his lover as close as possible. He shakes his head, running his fingertips through the soft hair at the nape of Iwaizumi's neck. 

He breathes his scent, and chokes on it, wondering how something so wonderful could ever disappear. He feels his heartbeat steady against Iwaizumi's, feels himself melt into his best friend, lover, teammate – no. Soulmate. He shuts his eyes and cried endless tears. 

A world without Iwaizumi would be as empty as space, and as void of meaning as a hospital with no patients, a library with no books. "Why..?" he asks, his voice hoarse and shaking. "Why do you have to go? We were supposed to be together always and forever. We were supposed to get married and grow old together..."

Iwaizumi lets out a soft, quiet sigh. "It's not fair, Tooru," he mutters, his voice breaking. "I wanted to beat Ushiwaka with you. I wanted to be the best ace in the country... I wanted to go to the Olympics with you. We were going to be the best. I... I wanted to love you for the rest of my life, but the rest of my life is so fucking short!"

Oikawa tightens his grip on Iwaizumi, his heart shattering and falling to the floor. Everything hurts, and there is a hand around his throat that won't stop tightening. "I love you so much," he whispers. Iwaizumi's reply is quiet, but perfect. "I love you always."

Oikawa opens his eyes. He sniffles, and reaches up to wipe his eyes. His eyes widen. He doesn't know when he fell asleep. All he knows is that the sun is warm on his cheeks. And the arms around his waist are cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the tw was kinda pointless,, but since it's the death of one of my favourite characters i felt it necessary


	8. Author's Note

Hello!  
Sorry, I haven't updated this fic in quite some time. The reason for that is that I've been struggling with gender dysphoria and school work, and a lot of things have been piling on top of eachother. But I'm back now, and no longer on hiatus! I have a couple chapters of the fic written up already, I'm just going to be editing them, and then uploading them. Thank you so much to anyone who's bothered to stick around and wait for the next chapter, I promise there will be updated soon!   
Lots of love, Luka xoxo


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